


Get a Life

by Blownwish



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Daddykink, Fingering, M/M, Oral Sex, Otabek POV, PWP, Plot What Plot, Porn, Skype Sex, Underage Yuri, Yaoi, jerking off, otayuri - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-22
Updated: 2017-04-22
Packaged: 2018-10-22 15:35:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10699947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blownwish/pseuds/Blownwish
Summary: "All you do is either skating or cat related.” And stalking-related.Yuri retreats into the darkness. “I do you, fuckface.”Oh, come on. He's such a child about this. “Sex is as much of a hobby as eating. It doesn't count.”“Beka!” He slams his fist down. “I swear to the Holy Virgin Mother, if you do not stop pestering me about this bullshit, I will tell JJ you say his name when I blow you.”“That was just one time.”“It counts.”“I was telling you he was in the locker room…”“It totally counts!”





	Get a Life

Yuri Plisetsky doesn't have any real outside interests. No, obsessing over cats, ballet practice and Instagram do not count, even if Yuri huffs his hair and curses in that insanely adorable way. He doesn't even have passive pastimes. He doesn't read anything that's not some damn Viktor Nikiforov post or a tag - not even magazines! What Yuri calls ‘his music,’ is simply a short songlist Otabek put together to ‘get pumped,’ or filter out conversations he finds boring. Forget movies. Otabek had carefully curated a nice Netflix queue for him: Mad Max Fury Road, Bladerunner, the Dark Knight, the Big Lebowski… It was a disaster. Yuri spent all their viewing time stalking other skaters on Instagram, ranting about JJ, Yuuri Katsuki, and the horror that was Viktor fucking Nikiforov. 

“I don't get it.” Otabek sits in front of his laptop, staring at the Skype window. Somewhere, in that dark mess, Yuri sat with his pet cat, Mudak. “You eat, breath and sleep figure skating. Don’t you want to try other things?” 

He snorts. “No. That's why I win.” Yuri peers out of the darkness that is his bedroom. “Maybe you'd beat me if you focused more.”

That is rude and uncalled for. He ignores it. “All you do is either skating or cat related.” And stalking-related. 

Yuri retreats into the darkness. “I do you, fuckface.”

Oh, come on. He's such a child about this. “Sex is as much of a hobby as eating. It doesn't count.” 

“Beka!” He slams his fist down. “I swear to the Holy Virgin Mother, if you do not stop pestering me about this bullshit, I will tell JJ you say his name when I blow you.”

“That was just one time.”

“It counts.”

“I was telling you he was in the locker room…” 

“It totally counts!”

Otabek’s eyebrow goes up. Working Yuri up is probably in his top ten of favorite things to do, and that's saying a lot, given that he likes to do a lot of things. “No.”

“Ever again.”

“Absolutely not.” 

“Ever. I mean it.”

Someone knocks on the door. It must be room service. Thank heaven! Otabek ordered a stack of Montecristos in a fit of hunger, half an hour ago. He needs, desperately, to eat. 

“Go get your food, asshole.”

He tips well and gets back, promptly, so he can open the goodness. 

Yuri sighs. “Man, I wish I was there. Those sandwiches looks amazing!”

“Just for the sandwich, huh?” He takes a nice big bite and chews in front of the laptop. Slowly. 

This makes Yuri growl. Otabek likes his growls, not just because they're sexy, because they are, but because they can also be hilarious. Yuri is a pussy cat who's under the strange impression that he is a tiger. “You're teasing me, now!”

Food is very serious business to a young man having growth spurts - especially if he is an athlete. It is almost as serious as sex. Otabek relishes teasing Yuri with a deadpan calm. He would never admit he does it, because it is as obvious (and silly) as admitting the sky is blue, but he _does_. “It's delicious. I think they used cranberry sauce? It came with a pickle, too.”

“If you start sucking on it, I swear on all the Saints…”

“You already threatened me with JJ.”

“I’ll jack off right here and make you miss me so bad!”

He picks the pickle up, immediately. “You need to make threats like that more often.” Seriously, he really should. Hell, he and Yuri had skidded off the platonic rails and became something indefinably _else_ , because of Yuri jerking off. 

Long story… 

++

They'd become close friends quickly. Otabek liked Yuri’s serious commitment to skating, and he liked to think Yuri admired his, as well. They talked a lot about competition, technique, personalities ( Yuri couldn't stop going on and on about Nikiforov, damn it), and a few other things. Since Yuri didn't care much about music, movies, books, or anything not involving skating, cats, internet stalking, or memes, those _other things_ were what practically all teenage boys all had in common, whether or not they happened to be competitive figure skaters. 

“They restrict the internet in Kazakhstan, don’t they?” Yuri had an unholy grin on his face, as if he was going to introduce his saintly Muslim friend to the wonders of porn. 

How cute. 

He would have laughed, but he preferred silently savoring his shocks. “I get free online passes for all the sex clubs I DJ.” 

Of course Yuri wanted to see the video - for ‘proof’ that Otabek went to these fabled places - and, of course Otabek showed him, because a shock doesn't count when it can't be backed up. Yes, he really was in a couple of those vids, too - not performing _sexually_ \- but behind a booth, wearing a mask. (Though it was easy to tell it was really, truly, was Otabek.) 

Yuri was impressed, then he forgot to be impressed as he watched the rest of it. There were men and women doing various things in various combinations, and there were the other videos on sister sites with even more combinations, which quickly narrowed down to a very specific preference Otabek had suspected all along. Otabek let him keep clicking away, because that was what Yuri did in front of screens. He was probably thinking about doing something else in front of that screen, too. 

Otabek didn't exactly mind. 

He knew he should have minded. After all, Yuri was still jailbait, though just by a few months. Otabek was an eighteen year old adult and painfully aware of how different eighteen and fifteen were in terms of maturity. But that devilish elfin face, wispy blond hair and bendable body did things to his imagination that made those videos look like children’s programming. He said he wanted to be friends, and he did, but he wanted to be _very good_ friends with this (very clawed) kitten , or rather, _very bad_ friends. So the thought of Yuri masturbating to his laptop was absolutely fine by him. 

He pretended to leave the room for a glass of water, and padded back, silently, sans water, to find Yuri with his hands full. 

Perfect. 

Otabek said nothing. He just sat next to a very startled Yuri, calmly took out his own half hard dick and began to stroke himself. 

Not to the videos, no. He'd seen many a porn orgy or two in person. It was sort of like seeing sausage made, pun intended, and they weren't all that appealing when compared to a flushed and hard Yuri, who was staring at him with delectable embarrassment. 

“It's okay.” Otabek smiled as if this was as ordinary as two friends getting coffee. “It’s perfectly natural.”

It all went to hell, or heaven, from there. Yuri pretended to watch the screen as Otabek kept a steady gaze on him, catching Yuri as he peeked every so often at Otabek’s dick. It was enough to put Yuri over the edge, and watching him come was like watching a sunset or understanding Shakespeare in English for the first time: magical. He tossed his head back and shivered as his delicate features scrunched up and _whined_. God! Otabek still gets hard, to this day, when he remembers that sound. 

“Man, that was kinda gay…”

Otabek came seconds after he said that. 

“Oh, now it’s really gay.” 

Otabek grabbed napkins from the table and handed him a few. “A lot of the videos you ended up watching were gay.” 

“Your face is gay.”

Yuri wiped himself off and they spent the rest of the evening in silence. Otabek worked on some edits while Yuri scoured Instagram. But he had something to say when he left Otabek’s hotel room: “Let's do that, again.”

Otabek leaned against the door. “Are you asking me to be gay with you?”

Yuri gave Otabek a gleefully evil smile, grabbed him by the shirt, and shoved his tongue in his mouth, giving him the most wonderfully sloppy kiss in history. “What the fuck do you think, asshole?”

++

“Hey,” Yuri is watching Otabek lick the tip of the pickle. “You want me to do this or what, Altin?”

He leans back, sucks on the pickle and shrugs with a frown, as if LeRoy just asked him if he likes JJ Style. 

Yuri is so easy. He flips his bedroom light on and plays some really awful eighties techno Yuri keeps calling ‘aesthetic.’ “Watch me, asshole.” Awful music can't be fixed, but it can be tolerated when Yuri Plisetsky is running his hands through his long, blond hair and grinding to it. 

Hell!

Otabek is already half hard when Yuri turns around and pulls the shirt, then the shorts off, sliding them over his skin. He bends over and rubs his thighs, his ass, then his thighs again as the beat pushes through Otabek’s speakers in the same pounding rhythm he dreams of using when he finally gets to fuck his dirty Yura. 

“Too bad you can't have it, tonight, right?”

Otabek watches as Yuri, his _Yura_ , falls into the bed and turns on his side, showing him everything. He's so suckable, biteable, _fuckable_. “Oh Daddy, you wanna be here right now, hm?” He smacks his own ass. 

He bites into the pickle. _That little shit!_ He used that word! It's so wrong! It's so insanely bad for countless, countless reasons. And it makes Otabek hard as a rock, every time. 

“I'm going to be very, very bad, Daddy.”

The Daddy thing was another long story…

++

While it was true that Yuri needed other interests, something to make him a well rounded person who didn't depend on cat vids and stalking to fill the empty gaps between skating and more skating, he was making a valiant effort where sex was concerned. No, sex wasn't really a hobby, in the same sense that eating or sleeping were not hobbies, either. But at least he wasn't staring at a screen when Otabek was working on him. 

Yuri was more than enthusiastic, and actually very aggressive. He liked straddling Otabek so he could stare into his eyes as he ground against him, and Otabek found a way to suffer though that fantastic torture. “Tell me you want me.”

“Obviously.” 

“No, I want you to confess how bad you want me. Tell me you get hard when I talk to other men, like you want to take me right in front of them and show them I'm yours.”

Oh, someone was having fantasies that didn't involve wearing a tiger striped skating costume or obsessively stalking Nikiforov? Otabek leaned back against his elbows and almost - almost - smiled. Things were looking up. “Maybe I should fuck you in front of other skaters in the locker room. They could touch themselves, but they couldn't touch you.” Especially Nikiforov. 

“Would they come all over me?” Oh, hell! Yuri was really turned on, rubbing his nipples through his t shirt as he practically bounced on Otabek, over and over. 

His Yura was such a bad, bad boy. The kind of boy who would do anything for attention. Otabek imagined pulling him by the hair, to angle him for money shots all over his perfect face. “I’d make you wipe it all off and swallow it.”

“Make me? What would you do if I said no?”

This was too easy. Otabek laid back and began thrusting upward. “Bad boys get spanked.”

“Are going to be my Daddy, Beka?” That did all sorts of insane things to his state of mind. It was perverse, it was obscene, a one-word confirmation that what they were doing was taboo. Yura laughed as Otabek reared up and pushed him into the carpet. “Oh, Daddy! Be nice!” He kept laughing as clothes - he was wearing too many damn clothes! - were practically torn off. “Oh my god! You really like that, don't you, _Daddy_?”

Otabek uncapped a lube bottle. He was one finger deep inside Yuri in seconds, jerking him off with his other hand. “You asked for this!” The laughter turned into high pitched wails as Otabek curled his finger and finger banged him, hard. Yuri just stared up at him, mouth open, with wide, pleading eyes, begging him for release. “Feel it, Yura! Feel it!” _This_ was what he'd always wanted, his sweet and dirty boy, tweaking those pink nipples and writhing like a cat in heat for him. 

That got him two fingers. “I'll be your Daddy. I'll be anything you need me to be. But you can't be a bad boy for anyone else.” He squeezed the base of his cock. “No one else.”

“Oh, Holy Mother…!” When he arched his back, when he wailed, when he _came_ , Otabek knew Yura was totally and completely his. 

Otabek didn't bother taking off his wifebeater and jeans, he just unzipped his fly and crooked his finger at the beautifully flushed, naked mess on the floor. “Come here, Yura. Take responsibility for what you did to me.”

Even after coming, Yuri was more than happy to continue. Hell, he was on his knees, beaming as he licked Otabek like a lollipop. “Is this okay, Daddy?”

Oh, he really, really was so damn _bad._ Otabek fisted his hair and pushed his dick into his mouth. “You know better than that.” 

They'd given each other blow jobs before, but Otabek was always careful not to overwhelm Yuri with his demands. What Otabek got from him were really glorified hand jobs, with Yuri sucking the head of his cock. And it was fine - more than fine. Even the best deepthroating couldn't compare to looking down and seeing those wide, blue-green eyes staring back at home while that beautiful mouth sucked him. 

“You drive me insane. You know that, don't you?”

Yura whimpered around his dick and sucked even harder. Otabek fought back the urge to ram himself down his throat, but he couldn't help pushing in a little deeper. Oh, hell - 

“Dirty, sweet - _Yura!_ ”

++

“Tell me how you're finally going to fuck me.” He's stroking himself in front of the camera. “Is it going to be on a mattress? Up against a wall? Maybe on the floor, on my hands and knees?”

Otabek wants all of those things, and more. But he refuses to say. Yuri will have to earn that information. He just sucks on the pickle and shrugs. 

“Maybe on your motorcycle? Someone might even see us and post it all over the Internet.” His smile is pure evil. “Then all those rumors would be confirmed, yeah?”

Otabek pops the pickle out of his mouth. “I'm sorry, were you saying something?” Yuri is going to have to do better than this. Talking dirty is good, but Yura being nasty is better. “Quit teasing me, kitten, and show me what you'd like me to do to you.”

Yura groans. “How? I can't fuck myself, damn it!”

“Don't lie to me. I know you finger fuck yourself all the time.” Otabek sits back. “I'm the one who taught you how, remember?”

++

They were showering in Yuri’s hotel room after Otabek drove two days and nights to get to St Petersburg. He needed to sleep, but the sight of Yuri greeting him at the door in tiger print boxer briefs sent any thought of rest out of his mind. There were no words exchanged as Yuri hauled him inside. Otabek slammed him against the wall and pressed his knee up against Yuri, right there, and his sweet, dirty kitten was grinding against it, gasping and staring into his eyes. Otabek swallowed his cries with a long, deep kiss when he came. 

The shower stall was too cramped to do all the things Otabek wanted to do to that flushed, tight body, but he could do some of them. He lathered Yura up with the creamy hotel body wash, turned him around and poured a generous amount all over his ass. “Brace your hands on the tile and spread your legs.”

“Huh?” He was playing coy, like he didn't understand why. Oh, but he did, the damn tease. 

Otabek grabbed his chin. “Do it, kitten.” One smack on the ass later, Yura, sweet, filthy Yura, was whimpering as Otabek barely pushed a finger tip against him. “Ever tried this?”

“No…” 

“Want to?”

He nodded, then gasped as Otabek pushed in a little. 

“You okay?”

White suds slid over his slick, round ass and over his hand, like come. “Just do it, asshole!”

“So it's going to be like that, huh?” Otabek turned the water off, nevermind the soap all over Yura, and hauled him out of the stall, and right on to the bathroom floor. “Do it yourself, brat.”

He gasped as Otabek sucked his finger, then moaned when he placed Yura’s own hand between his legs and positioned that finger there up against him and pushed, just a little, just enough, and breathed into Yura’s ear. “One knuckle deep.”

“Oh, fuck you, Otabek!”

“No, fuck yourself. One knuckle.” He had driven, half hard over a thousand miles, dreaming of that shocked choking sound, and - oh, hell! - it was beautiful. “That's my dirty kitten. That's it. Now pull back and go deeper.” He pulled his hand out, just a little, then pushed in, more. 

“You're such a perv, you know that, Beka?”

“Shut up.” He repeated the movement, relishing the shocked intake of breath, licking the shell of his ear. “Now curl your finger.” He jammed Yura’s finger in, hard.

“Fuck!”

“Again.”

“Oh, Holy Virgin Mother!” He arched his back and suddenly Otabek didn't need to move his hand at all. Yura was doing all the work, moaning and writhing as he finger fucked himself. “God - fuck! - _Beka!_ ”

Somehow, don't ask Otabek how, he found himself being sucked off, then coming all over Yura’s beautiful face, while they discovered he could manage two fingers, easily. 

Another shower later, they flopped into the hotel bed, Otabek with his laptop, double checking his booking dates and verifying his practice times at the rink, and Yuri stalking Nikiforov with one of his many sock puppet accounts. 

Otabek was not impressed. “Don't you have anything better to do?”

“I just did it.” Yuri made a face. “Oh my god! He actually posted a kiss pic with Piggie! He's worse than a lovesick woman!”

“Hm.” Otabek closed his laptop and turned off the light. “Quit stalking your old crush and get some sleep, Yura.”

“What did you say -?”

Otabek gathered him into his arms and shushed him with a soft kiss. It was distracting enough for Otabek to take Yuri’s damn phone away and place it on top of his laptop with no complaint. “You don't need him, anymore. I'm here.”

++

Yura is sitting up on his knees, hand between his legs, and bouncing up and down on as he fucks himself with three fingers. Hell… He is so beautiful: creamy, flush and perfect as he sobs. “Please, Daddy! Let me jerk off!”

“No. Not after you teased me about it.” 

“But I need - ”

“You're going to come for me, without jerking off, because you are a very, very bad kitten.”

“No! Please? Oh, please?” Yura whines as he rotates his hips and does his best to change Otabek’s mind. “I'll swallow my come for you and everything! Just, _please_ , Daddy?”

Otabek makes a show of sighing. “What am I going to do with such a brat?”

“Let me come! That's what!”

He rolls his eyes, as if he's bored. “Oh, go ahead.”

Yura touches himself. “Daddy…” It's just one stroke, Otabek knows that'll be all it takes, and he's right. Yura erupts, wailing as he bucks for him. 

His dirty, sweet Yura. 

++

“You really need to find something to occupy your time.” 

“I just did.” Yuri’s wearing a bathrobe and eating - what are those, Cheetos? “Mudak! Stop pestering me! These aren't good for you!” He gives his cat a glare, then a pet. 

Otabek stretches. It's 2 am and they really need to get some sleep, but these Skype calls are more essential when they've been apart for months. “Did you watch the movie I recommended?”

Yuri makes a face. “What? That Japanese cartoon? I can't listen to that shit. Reminds me of the pig.”

“Akira is a masterpiece. You'd love it.”

“What I’d love is to wear this year’s Grand Prix gold while you fuck me into the floor. I don't need distractions.” He devours the rest of the bag and tosses it (hopefully into a trash can). His mouth is orange, that crap is all over his teeth, too, and he _still_ looks better than a supermodel when he smiles. “And it's going to happen.”

“You'll have to settle for silver, Plisetsky, because I'm going to be the one wearing the gold medal while I fuck you into the floor.”

“Not a chance, Altin. Not a chance.”

Otabek snorts. If he knows him, and he knows him very well, Yuri probably masturbates to that fantasy. That, and flogging Nikiforov with the gold medal he will _not_ win. He really needs to get a life, because he's going to be sorely disappointed. “Never underestimate a dark horse, kitten.”


End file.
